


Gargalesis

by tempus_teapot (dreadnot)



Series: Volutions Shorts [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Humor, M/M, UST, kmeme, volutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-22
Updated: 2011-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadnot/pseuds/tempus_teapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from Grotesquerie's ocean voyage. Anders and Fenris discover an awkward mutual weakness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gargalesis

**Author's Note:**

> This is (once again) in response to a kmeme request. The requester wanted Anders or Fenris pinning the other down and tickling him while attempting to stay at least somewhat IC. This was my response, set after Anders gets his sea legs but before he gets molested (not pornily) by a tentacle.

Anders threw his boot across the cabin with a curse before shifting to drag his other boot off, throwing it after the other, jerking on the chain that hung between his wrist and Fenris’. Still unbuckling his gauntlets as they prepared for another uncomfortable night spent sleeping back to back, Fenris jerked against Anders’ pull on the chain with a standard-issue glower for him.

“Your boots have offended you?”

“You have offended me,” Anders snapped. “But I can’t throw you across the cabin so the boots will have to do.”

Fenris dropped his gauntlet to the floor beside the other and turned his attention to unbuckling his chest plate. “What did I do to you this time? I recall no discussion of mages or mage rights arising. Is that not what raises your ire?”

Anders raised his right wrist and shook the chain. “I am sick of you and your face and your, your…” He made an incoherent noise of frustration. “Your _everything!”_

“I am no happier with you,” Fenris assured him. “But I am not resorting to childish antics to display my anger.”

“Childish antics?” Anders twisted to face him on the bunk. “Just because you don’t have boots to throw doesn’t mean you don’t have your own antics. Don’t think I haven’t seen the smashed bottles in your mansion when I go there with Hawke. You throw things too.”

He poked Fenris in the ribs to make his point and saw him flinch away from the poke, dropping his hands from his buckles to protect himself.

“Did I hurt the warrior?” he asked, poking again only to see Fenris twitch and snatch at his hand. He jerked his hand away from Fenris’ grab and darted in for another poke.

“No!” he crowed, watching Fenris twist and grab for him again. “No, the warrior’s _ticklish!”_

 _“Mage,”_ Fenris growled, “cease now.”

Anders grinned and tried to attack him from the other side. He knew that Fenris was sensitive to touch, but the layer of thin leather between Fenris’ ribs and his fingers seemed to keep him from reacting with lyrium violence. Anders was so frustrated with their situation that it felt worth the risk to go for the opening, getting in one good poke and scrabbling his fingers over Fenris’ ribs before Fenris caught both of Anders’ wrists and held his hands away, out of reach to tickle him more.

Not before Anders had heard what had definitely been a quickly suppressed laugh from the normally stoic man.

“You’re ticklish!” he said gleefully, his earlier irritation forgotten with the revelation.

At least until Fenris transferred both of his wrists into a single-handed hold and said, “The question is are you?”

Anders realized that he might be in trouble and started to jerk against Fenris’ iron grip. “No, not ticklish. You’re right, I was being childish,” he said hastily. “I won’t do it again.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes and jabbed his finger into Anders’ ribs.

Anders twisted away from his finger as much as Fenris’ hold on his wrists would allow. “Ow! Definitely not tickling, bastard!”

Fenris poked again, not as hard, before mimicking what Anders had done to evoke that stifled laugh. He scraped his fingers over Anders ribs and was rewarded when Anders squirmed, his voice jolting up an octave as he tried to protest, “Stop!”

“I do not think I will,” Fenris said, dragging his fingers down Anders’ ribs to determine just where Anders was most ticklish, which turned out to be his side just below his ribs.

“No!” Anders protested as Fenris pulled his hands above his head and planted his free hand on Anders’ chest to push him back on the bunk. “Fenris, I won’t do it again!”

Maker, someone that lean should not be that bloody strong!

And no, no, _no_ Fenris should _not_ shift on top of him to pin him down by straddling his thighs, making it impossible for Anders to struggle when Fenris started tickling him again.

He squirmed under Fenris’ attack, and attack it was – unrelenting as Fenris dragged his fingers over Anders’ torso. He writhed and laughed despite himself, helpless to get his hands free, twisting and pushing his feet against the far end of the bunk to try to escape the ruthless onslaught from Fenris’ fingers.

“Stop, stop, _stop!”_ he cried, laughed, and finally even begged, but Fenris did not let him go until Anders bucked up under one particularly adept assault and brought them both to the sudden revelation that Anders’ body was reacting to Fenris’ attentions in more ways than just paroxysms of laughter and writhing.

Fenris jerked his hand away from Anders’ ribs as though he had been burned, and Anders dropped his hips back against the bunk as hard as he could. If he could just push his pelvis right through the bunk and then through the hull and then sink the ship, yes that would be just fine right then.

Why did he always end up rubbing his “stamina” against Fenris’ backside? Which wasn’t to say that he wouldn’t want to rub his stamina against someone’s backside, but if he ever had that privilege again, he wanted it to be with someone who didn’t hate him.

Fenris glowered down at him before sliding carefully – Anders thought almost gingerly – off of the bunk. Anders wanted to tell himself that it wasn’t just his imagination, that Fenris really was keeping his body turned to block Anders’ view of his groin.

“There will be no more tickling,” Fenris said gruffly, keeping his back to Anders as much as the chain would allow.

Anders looked down at the indiscreet bulge in his robe and squeezed his eyes closed in frustration before rolling onto his side to face away from Fenris.

“It never happened,” he muttered. “Never, _ever_ happened.”


End file.
